


Something Good

by KrisseyCrystal (AisukuriMuStudio)



Series: One Fixed Point [2]
Category: Tales of Zestiria
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, Like no rly, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, there's nothing else here but fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-18
Updated: 2016-10-18
Packaged: 2018-08-23 03:31:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8312317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AisukuriMuStudio/pseuds/KrisseyCrystal
Summary: Proposals couldn't get rained out...could they?





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [talesofsymphoniac](https://archiveofourown.org/users/talesofsymphoniac/gifts).



Really, when Sorey _intended_ to propose to the love of his life, he had wanted the moment to be perfect. He had planned everything down to the last detail:  the dinner, the walk around town, the cloudless night, the flowers, the music, the ambience, even the damn _ring._

He should have known it would be his luck that none of that would happen.

The moment the waiter tripped was probably when he first should have called the attempt off and acted like it was a not-so-normal-anymore date night for them. Or maybe should he have aborted the proposal right when the baked potato soup flew off of the tray and onto his lap and Mikleo’s shoes? Should he have stuffed the ring in his pocket then and left it there to stay for a _long, long time_ like _maybe never again ever I’ll try again in maybe a century yeah?_

Sorey didn’t know.

All he knew was that he had gathered all of his courage to ask Mikleo to marry him _tonight_ and he knew that if he didn’t, odds were, he wouldn’t try again in—well, perhaps really—a century.

So, he laughed the incident with the soup off, perhaps forcefully.

Mikleo, on the other hand, seemed a little too uncomfortable with his shoes soiled with soup while sitting in a fancy, violin-stringing venue. “Maybe we should just go home,” he murmured.

And while some part of Sorey agreed, a bigger part of him—something deeply afraid of never having this chance again—was desperate to press on.

So, they left the restaurant on a compromise. Yes, they would skip the rest of their meal and leave early, but no, they wouldn’t go home. The night was (arguably) far from over. They grabbed hot dogs from a vendor as they made their way to the park where Sorey had planned to drop his knee and ask the Big Question.

But then…it started raining.

Cursing, hurriedly grabbing newspapers from nearby dispensers, Sorey wrapped an arm around Mikleo and pulled him close to his side as the two held their haphazard umbrella over their heads and ran to the nearest pavilion.

“Aw, man…!” Sorey cried in dismay as he looked out over the park.

As he had feared, the musicians who were going to play that evening on the park stage were nowhere to be seen. Not surprising, he knew. Not while considering the sudden downpour on what was supposed to be a _beautiful, starlit evening._

Mikleo shrugged beside him, sighing. “It’s all right, Sorey. It happens,” he murmured, sticking his hands in his pockets.

But no.

No, it wasn’t all right.

Mikeo didn’t _understand_. This was supposed to be their big _night_. This was supposed to be the night that changed everything, for the both of them. Proposals couldn’t just get _rained out_ …could they?

No, there had to be another way. There had to be _something_ that would work. Something—

“Sorey?”

—there.

Sorey saw their target long before Mikleo did:  a café across the way, on the other side of the park. It looked warm, and pretty. Romantic. Even better:  it had speakers outside, kept safe from the pelting rain by the red-and-white-striped awning that extended over the square windows.

Those speakers would be playing music, right? Romantic music? Nice music? _Some_ type of atmosphere-setting tune that would be appropriate for a very-carefully-planned-but-ill-executed-proposal?

Sorey decided it was better than nothing. He grabbed Mikleo’s hand. “C’mon, Mikleo!”

“What—Sorey!”

They ducked under the rain again.

It was a mad dash to the café, far across from their end of the park. But the two didn’t even make it in one go; halfway past the fountain in the center, Sorey slipped and brought Mikleo down with him in a tangled heap of arms and legs and jackets.

And really, maybe _that_ was the moment Sorey should have ultimately called the proposal off. Lying there on the puddled pavement, in a disgraceful, disheveled state, with his butt covered in mud, and jeans soaked through with rain and soup, maybe that’s when Sorey should have given up and called it a night and let the two of them go home to drink some hot chocolate and try to recover from the disaster their evening had been so far.

But no.

Sneakers squeaking with every step, Sorey still jumped to his feet as fast as he could. He still grasped Mikleo’s wrists to pull him up. And brimming with determination, he still pushed (or pulled, in Mikleo’s case) them on.

Only to realize that once they got to the awning, he had somehow lost the ring.

“Sorey, what is going _on_?” Mikleo asked, wet, cold, and exasperated.

Sorey felt desperately around in his pockets, barely able to comprehend the mystery himself. It—it was just _there_ —how could it be missing? Now, of all times? _Now_?

“I—just—just _hang on_ ,” Sorey insisted and he looked out over the park again. The fountain? Maybe he had lost it by the fountain when they fell?

“Oh, no.” Mikleo, seeing the look in his boyfriend’s gaze, quickly shook his head. “No. Not again. Not again, Sorey! You count me out of this! Sorey—!”

But Sorey grabbed his wrist and tugged him out into the rain yet again.

They dodged cars from incoming traffic as they hurried back to the park. Mikleo swore loudly this time, not even trying to keep his mumbling curses quiet. Hands clutched to one another, they kept running until they reached the fountain’s side yet again.

Once there, Sorey instantly fell to his knees. His hands splashed in the puddle repeatedly, sloshing around and soaking up his jacket sleeves. His fingers searched desperately to find the box that had somehow slipped out of his pocket. It had to be here, right? This was the only time he could have lost it. He hadn’t—it didn’t make sense for it to have fallen anywhere else— _crap_ , he spent a lot of money on that ring! Where did it go?

“Sorey, _what_ is going on?!” Mikleo burst again, watching his boyfriend splash around in the puddle. Did he know what he looked like? “What are you doing? This is ridiculous…!”

“I—just hang on, Mikleo! I lost something!” Sorey gasped, trying to fling his dripping-wet bangs out of his eyes.

“Lost _what?_ ” Mikleo’s eyes darted around the puddle, but it was fruitless. There was no use trying to see or find anything here in the park at this time of night, _especially_ in this rain. “You know what, let’s just come back tomorrow; you aren’t going to find it now!”

“No!” Sorey insisted. Once more, his hands kicked around in the muddied puddle. “I _have_ to find it! You don’t understand!”

“ _What_ don’t I understand—“

“It’s just—“ Sorey’s fingers latched onto something hard, square. Velvety.

At last.

“Y’know, you’ve done a _lot_ of weird things to date. But this is kind of the—“

“—this!” Sorey sharply gasped, and shoved up the drenched ring box for Mikleo to see.

All at once, the pale-haired young man became still. Those lavender eyes—gorgeous hues they were, even while squinting through the rain—widened as much as they could.

“Sorey,” Mikleo murmured, voice heavy. “What is that?”

Sorey panted and hurriedly squeezed open the box to reveal the ring inside. It was cushioned, a little wet. It didn’t gleam as brightly as it would have in the moonlight, but it was cleanable. Salvageable. Maybe just like this whole night?

“C’mon, Mikleo,” Sorey said with a breathless smile at the side of his mouth. “You’re smart. Figure it out. What does it _look_ like this is?”

Mikleo’s eyes darted to the ring again, perched prettily in its cushioned box, then they jerked to Sorey’s face. His face turned red.

“Sorey, you _idiot_!”

Sorey blinked.

The…what?

“That’s not what I meant!” Mikleo continued, his fists clenched at his sides. “I meant why didn’t you do this _later_?”

“W-what—“

“This entire time you were wanting to _propose_ to me?! You could have done that at _home_!”

“What?! No, I couldn’t have—!”

“You could have done it in the restaurant!”

“You had soup on your shoes!”

“And you have soup on your pants, but that was _still_ better than what we have now! That still would have been _much_ better than proposing to me in the _rain_!”

“What, you think I _planned_ for it to rain?! I was trying to make everything _perfect_!”

“It _could_ have been perfect literally at any other time, too!”

“No, it couldn’t have! Because not any other time _is_ perfect!”

“What?! That doesn’t even make sense! What do you even mean?!”

“It—it means—!” But Sorey, flustered, face-red and embarrassed, couldn’t…actually think of anything to say. What _did_ he mean? There were a thousand things he knew he wanted to say, but at the same time, nothing at all that he _could_ say.

Sorey stared and stared at his boyfriend as his boyfriend stared and stared back. But in the end, no answer came.

So he sighed. The brunette bowed his head. Sorey could feel the rain against the back of his neck; the cold drops tickled. “…it means…it means I just wanted this night to be something we’d both remember.” _Something perfect. Something good._

There was a small pause between them; the constant thrum of rain was the only sound for a whole minute.

And then—Mikleo laughed.

It started out small, as a quiet, modest chuckle. The kind that made Sorey’s heart flutter and do odd things in his chest. Then it turned into a bit of a heartier, subdued snicker that was what had made Sorey first realize just how head-over-heels he was for his childhood friend and current college roommate.

But then, it was a _laugh_.

A good, mouth-wide _laugh_ that Sorey could count on one hand the times he had heard Mikleo give.

With wide eyes, he watched his boyfriend laugh and laugh and laugh before finally, the pale-haired youth reached out for him and pulled him to his feet. “C’mere, you,” Mikleo murmured, voice soft with affection and love as he pulled Sorey in to meet him in a wet, rainy kiss.

“Yes,” Mikleo said as they broke, and his smile still wide on his face. There was something different in his squinting violet eyes than before. “I forgot to say it, but _yes,_ you big nerd.”

Sorey just blinked, ring box still in his hand, which had somehow found its way around Mikleo’s waist, along with his other hand. “Wait…yes to what? Yes that you’ll marry me? Or yes to the ‘this was supposed to be a night we’ll both remember’?”

Mikleo just grinned. His hands, even wet, were warm around Sorey’s jaw. He leaned in, his voice dropping a notch or two. “C’mon, Sorey,” he teased. “You’re smart. Figure it out. What does it _look_ like a yes to?”

…oh.

A smile slowly spread on Sorey’s face. He closed the ring box in his hand, and pulled Mikleo in a little closer, their bodies pressed flush together.

And this time, when they kissed, it was with promise.

**Author's Note:**

> I like to imagine that when Sorey does propose to Mikleo, they argue not because they're worried about what Mikleo's answer will be. But more so, because Mikleo's just like, "ReaLLY?! You're proposing _NOW_?!" 
> 
> I love these boys.


End file.
